


The Face of Superior Leachery

by whatwecan



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Crack, Episode Fix-It: s02e04 The Girl in the Fireplace, Episode: s02e04 The Girl in the Fireplace, F/M, GitF, Jealousy, Post-Episode: s02e04 The Girl in the Fireplace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 00:50:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8690188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatwecan/pseuds/whatwecan
Summary: A simple ‘what if’ hypothesis for Girl in the Fireplace.  The premise of which should become apparent pretty quick.





	

“So there I was, minding my own business... or rather... telepathically minding her business (which was a mess by the way) when you won't believe what happened...”

The Doctor surveyed his audience, pausing for dramatic effect. 

He had to admit they seemed rather nonplussed, bored, and, (at least in the case of one of them) suspiciously disheveled. But then that was par for the course when it came to murderous robots he supposed. There seemed something, in particular the matter with Rose. She was picking her nails with a strange sort of enthusiasm, and her hormones had gone completely haywire, but he knew better than to ask about it. He preferred NOT to have the ‘Doctor why are you having the Tardis monitor my hormonal activity’ conversation, thank you very much. Not to mention the follow up, ‘which hormones again was it that you were monitoring anyway’ follow up discussion.  
Particularly not in the present company.

Alone... well maybe. On a bed, with a bottle of Ulvian Champagne...

The Doctor sighed, shaking his head to dislodge the mental side-track, and picking up the topic at hand with enough enthusiasm to make up for his companion’s lack there of. 

“She kissed me!” He gestured widely, hoping to convey the incredible good luck of such an event transpiring. “Right on the lips. These lips...” he pinched one between thumb and forefinger so they could see better, before realizing the extent that lip immobilization would impair proper storytelling and letting it go. “These lips have been entwined with the lips of history! Admit it! That’s pretty impressive.”

He looked to Rose for affirmation, but she was looking decidedly not impressed. In fact, she was so not impressed, that she could barely look him in the eye. If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought she was... oh no! She wasn’t intimidated was she? That was the last thing he wanted. After all the time he’d spent worrying about how to get Rose to see him as a kissable target, the last thing he wanted to do was over shoot the mark.

But just as he was about to reassure her that the gates to kisstopia were still wide open, the Doctor was interrupted by a laugh, and a rather snide, slow-clap from his other companion.

“Bravo Doctor, a kiss, very impressive.”

“Why thank you Jack, it was rather...wait...” the Doctor regarded Jack suspiciously, that smug grin never meant anything good, “are you being sarcastic?”

“Me? Sarcastic?” The man crooned disingenuously, “Why would you say that?” he asked, draping an arm over Rose who just looked irritated... probably with the captain’s annoying familiarity and utter lack of personal boundaries. Still, the Doctor considered the question.

“Well I suppose it has a lot to do with the tone and pitch of your comment, not to mention a distinct ostentatious inflection which if I’m not mistaken...”

“Oh come on!” The captain interrupted. Rudely. “She’s French.”

“Well yes, bravo Jack.” the Doctor rejoined, trying out a little inflection of his own. “Your grasp of history is quite...”

“Doctor, please.” Jack interrupted again. Still rudely. And that was supposed to be his thing! “Kissing is like nothing to the French, barely a how-do-you-do. Compared to the things that her and I did...”

“Now Jack I have to let you know that if you’re going to keep interrupting... you... what!?”

Jack preened and Rose scoffed (still irritated for some reason) and the Doctor could see his formerly impressive exploits becoming obsolete in the face of superior leachery.

“You heard what I said Doctor,” Jack crowed “and let me tell you, you won't believe what she’s got hidden under those skirts of hers. It’s not what you think.”

“OhmyGOD! Listen to you two.“ Rose interrupted, and if it was rude or not the Doctor couldn’t quite tell, distracted as he was by the vexed, heaving of her chest. “You sound like a couple of blokes at the local. Why don’t you just whip ‘em out and be done with it?” she snapped. 

And that was odd. Rose never snapped at them. Even the time they’d hosted that intergalactic Chilli cook off, and dubbed his timeship the “FARTIS”, she’d faced the unpleasant aftermath with an air of bemusement, and good-cheer. But this time she seemed genuinely upset. 

What was odder still though, was the strange, knowing look that Jack shot her, and her glare in return. The Doctor surrepetitiously checked Rose’s vitals on the Tardis monitor. Yup, she was definitely upset, if not very, very peeved. Had something happened on that ship he’d missed? He’d run a full body work up (secretly, sonic.) after her run in with the droids, but perhaps he’d missed something.

“Rose,” he asked, in as level voice as he could manage given his concern, “what’s gotten into you?”

“Jealous.” The Captain piped in, rolling his eyes and ignoring the death stare Rose promptly leveled at him.

“Jealous?” How could Rose be jealous, or more importantly, the Doctor asked himself, who could Rose possibly be jealous of? Could it be...? 

“oh Rose, honestly, you really shouldn’t feel left out. Speaking from personal mouth-on experience, engaging in... err... activities with Rienette is really nothing to write home about. She tasted sort of like a bent penny that’s been sitting in the gutter too long. Not that I’ve... hem... ever licked one of those per say, but...”

“Seriously?! Doctor? You can’t possibly be that...” 

“Shut up Harkness.” Rose snarled, stamping her foot and menacing a finger at him.

“She’s not...”

“I swear, one more word...” Rose barked, shoving him in the chest as he yelled over her shoulder.

“It’s Reinette she’s jealous of you idiot!”

“Reinette?” the Doctor puzzled “But that hardly makes any sense... unless...”

The Doctor looked confoundedly at Rose and Jack as she tried to tackle him ineffectively, her face red with rage, while he laughed and wrestled her hands away. She was furious at him, and that could only mean... oh. 

The Doctor’s heart sunk as the realization dawned on him, his other heart swan-diving after it as all the puzzle pieces came together. Jack was right, he’d been such an idiot. How could he not have seen this happening? Right under his nose too? On his own time-ship no less. The knowing glances, the teasing whispers, the elevated levels of estrogen, testosterone, and LH!

Idiot!

“Right.” The Doctor said, backing away towards the Tardis’ corridor. “Sorry ‘bout that. I’ll just... leave you two, to it... give you guys some privacy to sort out this... spat. No need for a third wheel... unless you’re a tricycle I always say...”

Jack boggled at him as Rose huffed a relieved sigh. No doubt glad to see the back of him so she could lay into her errant lover in proper Tyler fashion. 

But before the Doctor could turn on heel and escape, Jack did three more very surprising things.

Firstly, he muttered “Bloody hell.” which was unexpected, given that he was American. But then again he’d been traveling in close quarters for quite some time now with a formerly northern, Gallifreyan, anglophile, and one lovely, blonde, Londoner, so things were bound to rub off. And who was the Doctor to judge? He’d picked up a number of her peccadillos himself since the regeneration.

Secondly, and alarmingly, Jack grabbed Rose, spinning her on heel and entwining her in his arms. The Doctor could feel his own fists clench, at the way the Captain clutched her possessively, his hands running up and down her body as if it was his own personal race track, and his fingers were training for a 10k.

Third, and finally, Jack... 

Jack Harkness... 

Jack Harkness intergalactic Lothario and very much not defrocked Captain of the Royal Smarmy, kissed Rose Tyler. 

His hands rose until his fingers entwined in Rose’s hair, and his chest heaved as he pressed the full length of his body against hers, and the Doctor just saw red.  
How dare he? How dare that two-bit hustler slime his way into Rose’s good graces and smear his dirty little face all over her. The Doctor’s stomach turned at the sight of it. This was just, wrong. Rose might not be his partner, but he thought he’d made it plenty clear to the Captain that she wouldn’t be dancing with him either.  
Enraged, and for a brief frightening moment, not caring about the consequences or implications, the Doctor stormed over to the couple and forcibly pushed them apart. 

Jack smirked, his lips glistening and gasping for breath.

“See. Jealous." he said, "It doesn’t feel good when the person you’re head-over-heels for kisses someone else does it?”

It took a moment for the words to filter through the roar of fury in the Doctor's head, and once they did, another for them to fit together into any semblance of sense. So the Doctor was still fuming as he turned to Rose. Her eyes were wide and she was blushing, she seemed nervous almost to the point of tears. Still, as she began to chew her bottom lip, he was reminded of the very not-his-own-lips place that lip had just been, and the Doctor couldn’t help but feel incredibly , seethingly... oh. 

Jealous. 

Hesitantly the doctor tugged Rose’s hands out of the twisted cats-cradle she was making of her fingers, and gave them a gentle squeeze until she looked him in the eye. 

“Me?” he asked, ignoring Jacks smug saunter back to his room.

Rose shrugged her shoulders breathing out a shallow, deprecating laugh.

“Well it certainly isn’t Rienette.” she admitted, peering up at him through her eyelashes, the obvious question hanging in the air between them.

The Doctor answered it, with the best use his lips had seen all day. 

All year.

Centuries really...

basically, ever.

(Over on the Tardis console, the graph for hormone levels shot off the charts.)


End file.
